


The Killing Kind

by msemmyjones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Freshman Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Violence, Senior Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msemmyjones/pseuds/msemmyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>internet prompt: My roommate's boyfriend is staying over so can I please sleep on your floor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Killing Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Things got away from me a little bit here. I legit did not mean for these angsty feelings to surface, but out they came and I could do nothing to stop it. Enjoy!
> 
> msemmyjones.tumblr.com

Derek didn't think much of it when he walked passed the guy sitting in the hallway, wrapped in a red and white plaid blanket. He'd seen him around since the beginning of the school year (of course he had - how could you not notice the loudest person to ever exist), but he didn't know his name. Not that it mattered. Sitting quietly in the hall was the most normal thing he'd seen from the kid, and who was Derek to disturb the peace?

It was until his return trip down the hall that Derek took notice of the miserable look on the kid's face. He hesitated. Should he say something? Make sure this guy was okay? Derek knew he was far from comforting at the best of times with people he knew, all gruff and bluster, so he could only imagine how useless he would be with this kid he didn't know.

He'd hesitated too long, he realized, as two wary brown eyes glanced up at him. He cleared his throat before forcing out, "You...uh...you okay?"

"He speaks," was the totally unexpected reply. "Who knew the Big Bad Wolf could do more than huff and puff?"

Derek's eyebrows shot up in shock at the boy's tone of total derision. He'd only asked if he was okay, right? Nothing offensive passed his lips? "I...what?" he asked, at a complete loss for words.

"You know, the way you storm around here glaring and growling at everyone who tries to have even a moment of fun. We get it dude, you're too cool for our shenanigans. You're such a higher being, only here to learn and go on to be someone so much more important that the rest of us. You've made that perfectly clear. But you know what, some of us are here to make friends and gain life experience, too. That's all part of the college experience, you know."

Derek stared open-mouthed as the tirade kept coming, too dumbfounded by the kid's venom to do anything but let him finish. "Just because you think you're above the rest of us, there's no need for you to shit on the rest of us. Why'd you even come back to student housing if you were just going to do your best to make everyone else miserable? You make your family this miserable when you're home?"

And that was enough. The kid took a breath, gearing up to keep going, but Derek was done. "My family died last year," he snapped before he could stop himself. Two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks as the two stared at each other in silence, until Derek abruptly turned and stalked back to his own room.

Derek slammed his door behind himself and began angrily pacing the floor of his dorm. What the **fuck** was that kid's problem? Seriously, Derek had only asked if he was okay. He'd never even spoken to him before!

It was only a few minutes into his pacing when he heard a knock at his door. Yanking it open, he came face to face with the kid from the hall - still wrapped up in his blanket and carrying his books - now wearing an expression of shame. "The fuck do you want now?"

"Look, I just came to apologize, okay?" the kid said. "I'm having a bad night. I didn't mean to unload on you like that."

"Get the fuck out." With that, Derek slammed the door again.

Unfortunately, the kid didn't seem to take the hint. The knocking started up again, this time accompanied by the kid's raised voice. "C'mon, dude. I'm trying to apologize to you! I know I was a dick just now, okay?" Derek dropped heavily onto his bed. Hopefully, if he just ignored him, the kid would eventually go away.

Turned out, he was a persistent little shit. "Seriously, I'm really sorry I said those things to you. I mean, yeah, some of it was true - I mean, you are a little rude and scary to everyone - but that doesn't mean I should have said anything, especially not like that. And especially since you've kind of got a reason to be so pissed off and grumpy what with your family and all. I just want you to know I get it, okay? My mom died when I was 8, so I totally get it."

This was too much. Who the fuck did this kid think he was? Eyes blazing, Derek charged across the small room and wrenched the door open again. The kid, who had been leaning against the door, squeaked and flailed to keep upright. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Derek roared. "You do not _get_ **anything**!"

By this point, Derek realized they had garnered a small audience; kids were peeking out their own doorways, attracted by the noise. Derek was almost too angry to care, but didn't really want anyone else knowing anything about him or his family. He fisted the kid's shirt and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind himself one last time.

"Woah!" the kid cried, tripping over to Derek's roommate's bed, dropping his books and blankets and he sat down hard.

Derek stood over him, red-faced and panting with rage. He wasn't totally sure why he'd dragged the kid inside, why he felt he needed to prolong their interaction, but something inside him snapped and he just needed to make the fucker understand. "Listen up, you little shit. I don't care how rude or scary you and your little friends find me. I don't care if you think I've got a reason to be that way or not. And I don't care that your mother's dead." The kid flinched back at that, and Derek would have felt ashamed of his words if he wasn't so overwhelmed with his own anger and loss. "You don't know fucking anything, so get the fuck out of my face and never talk to me again."

The kid didn't move. "Look," he said gently. "Everyone experiences grief differently, so I'm not saying I know how you feel. Your feelings are your own. I'm just saying I've been there, so if you need to talk to someone, I'm available."

By this point, most of Derek's blind rage had leaked out, leaving him numb and empty. He laughed bitterly at the kid's naivete and earnestness. "What's your name, kid?"

"Stiles."

"Well, Stiles, unless you watched your family burn to death, listened to them scream in pain while you were held down by the police, unable to do anything to help them, you really haven't been there. Unless you've seen your psycho ex-girlfriend carted off to jail, laughing at how she loved putting them down, you haven't been there. And unless you were interrogated by the police because they think you might have helped, and live in a town where half the residents still think you did, too, well...you been there, have you?"

Silence stretched between them until, "Are you talking about Kate Argent? Are you Derek Hale?"

Derek flinched back like he'd been slapped at the sound of her name. He thought he'd been anonymous here, thought he'd be safe from gossip and prying eyes. But no, this kid knew him immediately. All the fight in him drained, and he dropped back down to his own bed. Holding his head in hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, he whispered, "Just get out."

He wasn't sure why he expected Stiles to listen to him this time. instead of slipping out the door to leave Derek to grieve and wallow in peace, Derek felt Stiles gently sit down next to him, a hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. They said nothing, letting the calming silence stretch between them.

Finally Derek looked up. Stiles stared back at him, wide brown eyes filled with no pity, just compassion and kindness. "I never thought you did it."

Derek took a breath to steady himself. It was unnerving seeing this kid - usually so loud and active - this still and quiet. Eyes squeezed closed, Derek said, "You don't know anything about it."

"To be fair, neither do the bitches around town who think you did. And besides, not true," Stiles countered. "My dad's the Sheriff in Beacon Hills, I've seen the case file. I never thought you had anything to do with it. And, for the record, neither did my dad."

Derek remembered the Sheriff. He'd been decent to him. A little haggard and gruff - not, altogether, unlike Derek himself - but still kind. Derek wanted to believe the Sheriff's faith in him. "Thanks," he said finally.

Stiles smiled back at him. He realized that in the last few minutes he's absentmindedly started rubbing Derek's back. The movement stuttered for a moment with the realization before beginning again, this time in earnest. "You're welcome," he answered. "And I really am sorry about earlier."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. I was a total dick. I just...I'm having a bad night."

"I could tell. 'S'why I asked if you were okay in the first place. Before you started screaming at me."

Stiles barked out a laugh. "Oh God. Like I said, total dick." He sighed, flopping himself down on the bed, behind Derek's back. Without even thinking, he raised his hand back up to continue his soothing back rub. "It's jut...my roommate's the biggest douche-canoe. I've been telling him all week about this exam I've got tomorrow, how I really needed to study and get a good night's sleep, and he chooses tonight to sexile me from the dorm."

Derek frowned. "That's really shitty. You could always talk to the RA." Hesitantly, he laid down beside Stiles.

More than happy to make room now that they weren't screaming at each other, Stiles wiggled closer to the wall. "I know, man, but it's like...I thought college was gonna be different, maybe I wouldn't be such a loser. But it's just high school all over again. I'm stuck rooming with Jackson Fucking Wittmore who likes to try and fuck Lydia Martin whenever I'm around. And it's like, I get it Jackson, she didn't want me back. But I'm not in love with her anymore. She's my friend now. I'm over it. She's over it. Why can't he get over it?"

Derek was pretty sure Stiles didn't breathe once during his whole outburst. Now that he was actually up close and personal with the kid - and not on the receiving end of his tirade - Derek was finding himself pretty fascinated by him. He was mesmerized by the way he moved and spoke, the way he talked with his hands and the way the vein in his neck throbbed. He thought it was very possible he wanted to taste that vein, see how long it would take to suck a bruise into the pale column of that throat. Stiles' tongue darted out to wet plump, pink lips. "It just sucks, man," he concluded. Derek couldn't look away.

"I...well...Boyd..." he stuttered out. "I mean, my roommate's staying at his girlfriend's place tonight. You're welcome to sleep here. To study, I mean."

Arms and legs flying, Stiles struggled to sit upright. "Oh my God, are you serious? Oh my God, Derek! Seriously. Thank you!" Stiles managed to clamor over Derek's body without any injuries and plonked himself down at the desk. "Seriously. I will be so quiet. I won't even bother you a little bit,"

"It's not a big deal, Stiles."

Stiles grinned as he got to work. True to his word, Stiles somehow managed to keep himself focused and quiet for the next hour. He was not, however, able to keep still. Derek, too, stayed silent, but he was unable to fully engross himself in his book, too distracted watching Stiles: his fingers drumming on the desk or twirling his pencil, his lips silently mouthing the words as he read, his arms stretching high in the air, or his head dipping and shaking as he tried to cram as much information into his brain as possible. Eventually, Derek found himself slipping into sleep. He tried to keep himself awake longer - wanted to make sure Stiles got to bed okay, wanted to see what else he could learn about the boy's body. But it was no use.

Around 1am, Derek was dragged up just enough from the depths of sleep to notice Stiles climbing into bed. Derek's bed. For some reason, Derek was neither surprised nor alarmed by this. Instead, he simply rolled over to make room and wrapped the boy up in his arms. "Thanks for not thinking I killed my family," he slurred sleepily into Stiles' hair.

"You don't look like the killing kind."

"I miss them," he whispered, clinging harder to Stiles as his breathing became thick and heavy.

"I know. I miss my mom."

"Tell me about her?" Anything to distract himself from the pain of missing them.

Stiles smiled and told Derek about how much his mom loved to sing, even though she was basically tone deaf. He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Derek's back as he told him how terrible a cook she was. He ran his fingers through Derek's hair and told him about how she liked to hide his lunch before he had to leave for school, cackling as he panicked about missing his bus, but how he always found it at the last minute and later would find the special note she'd written for him. Stiles softly and sweetly kissed Derek's lips and told him about how much she made his father laugh, how much they loved her.

Derek fell asleep with Stiles' voice in his ears and the memories of his family held fast in his heart. Maybe tomorrow he could tell Stiles about them.


End file.
